


For You Are My Solace

by kielaraa



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Also inspired by Overgrowth, Alternate Universe - Flowerfell, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Non-Binary Frisk, Panic Attacks, Reader Is Not Frisk, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Violence, reader is female, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kielaraa/pseuds/kielaraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Semi-hiatus; being edited]</p><p>"What are you so scared of?" He asked, an upturned and hollow grin gracing his features. "It's just a dark cavern full of skeletons and monsters." </p><p> </p><p>  <sub>A multi-chapter story based off SivioSanei's Flowerfell AU and SociopathicArchangel's Overgrowth story. This piece was previously entitled 'For A Crime I Didn't Commit.' Please do not repost.</sub></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This story was based off SivioSanei's Flowerfell AU on Tumblr, so I hope that creates a statement for itself that they are the creator of the concept; and SociopathicArchangel's fanfiction adaptation 'Overgrowth.' This has been taken down due to multiple reposts that the author did not agree to.  
> If this in any way also violates the author's wishes, I will not hesitate to take it down as well, but I can say that this is my own interpretation of the AU and I hope you all enjoy <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited] 

* * *

_It’s a beautiful day outside, huh?  ... birds are singing, flowers are blooming... perfect weather for a game of catch. Perhaps you could have a picnic with friends? Or just enjoy yourself in solitude._

_Not everyone is happy, though._

_Are you going to help them too?_

_If by chance, you have some unfinished business, please do what you must. Anything you want to do is important enough. Even something as small as reading a book, or taking a walk . . . please take your time. Because once you enter the void, there is no knowing when you will come back, and as scary as it sounds, if you ever will. So if you are ready to continue,_ please _remember:_

_The world is a dark, cruel and unforgiving world. It’s melancholy anthem singing to the hearts of everyone who are willing to accept the heartbreaking the truth. Your hands do not bear the weapons nor the strength to hurt, and all you have are the words that were once so bitter to comfort to those who do not wish to sing along. It is up to them to listen. Just remember to keep singing._

⤝⤞

❝I’m a new soul, I came to this strange world

Hoping I could learn a bit ’bout how to give and take

But since I came here, felt the joy and the fear

Found myself making every possible mistake.

 

* * *

Chapter One: New Soul

* * *

 

 ** _—_** ⊰ You’re falling. The cold wind rushed at you and you hear whistling in your ears and your hair is furiously flapping in all directions. That’s the last thing you remember before everything went black, dizzy and nauseous, and a feeling of utter dread burning in the pit of your stomach.

At first, you don’t move. You don’t even open your eyes. The only thing that’s in your mind is that you’re sure you’re dreaming. When you finally do, you check yourself first. You’re tense, your muscles are aching and there’s a numb pain in your head. You gaze into the mouth of the cavern you fell through. Twilight is crawling down the walls and shine like a spotlight on you. The dreadful, sinking feeling you got when you first slipped tickled your stomach and spine, and you did your best to shake it off.

Now, where were you?

It was almost a bit of a challenge to sit yourself up, pushing against gravity and still slightly disoriented. You only noticed the flowers when you feel their gentle touch.

The sight of the golden blooms seemed to make you realize your current situation, and the knot of unease in your stomach only grew tighter as you craned your neck to look up. The mouth of the mountain seemed so small... that only meant it was so far away. The surface was that far away.

How far did you fall, and how exactly did you survive?

You slumped back, taking a deep breath. You held it for a moment. _Don’t panic_. You felt the flowers press against you, and you decided that some way, somehow, the flower save you from your fall. However, it didn’t leave you unscathed.

Little cuts and bruises riddled your skin, but what caught you interest was a bandaged wrapped around your forearm, an herb sticking out from under it. You obviously couldn’t have done that, so who?

“Oh! You’re awake!” You snapped your head toward the direction of the sound. There was nobody there. Someone chuckled. “I’m down here, buddy.”

You jumped back.  A scream echoed throughout the space and you didn’t even realize it was you. You pressed a hand to your mouth, but your eyes as wide as plates cried out your surprise and fear. The flower looked to be more surprised than you were and coiled back with a glint of fear in its eyes. You felt guilt blossom in your chest.

“H-howdy.” The flower stammered through a nervous smile, raising a friendly, yet tattered, leaf. “Sorry friend, d-did I scare you?” Your heart was pounding in your throat, but you willed it to steady and swallowed it down. “I... I think I scared you more than you scared me.”

You laughed.

Something clicked in your head that maybe you finally lost it. Maybe that fall broke your mind, I mean how could you expect it not to from that height? A normal person wouldn’t even survive that. Maybe you’re dead and stuck in limbo for the few minutes your brain is still alive. Flowers aren’t supposed to be talking. They’re not even supposed to have a face. But here you are, making friends with a flower. At least you could call yourself creative?

“Um...” You eyed the flower, digging your nails into your legs. Ow. Okay, you’re not dreaming or hallucinating, apparently, much to your dismay.

The flower—he, you think—has his eyes trained on you, studying you and looking you up and down as if you were the hallucination. “I’m Flowey,” he said after awhile. “Flowey the Flower.” You giggled. That’s rich. You caught yourself when you saw he wasn’t joking. “S-sorry,” you said sheepishly. “[Name].”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, [Name], really, but...” Flowey looked to the side, eyes wide. He stared into the shadows as if he were expecting someone to jump out and scare him. “I... It’s not safe for you here. Not even me, really.”

“What do you mean?” The anxiety hidden in his somber voice made you feel a little antsy as well.

Flowey turned back to look at you. “Do you have any idea where we might be?”

“U... under Mount Ebott?”

He nodded in response. “Right. Have you heard any rumours or local tales?”

[An old voice echoes in the back of your head.

“Long ago, two races ruled across the earth...”]

“Legends say that monsters were sealed under Mount Ebott, and anyone who goes there is fated to never return, but that’s just—” _a legend_. You caught yourself.

Flowey’s petals are quivering. “You don’t deserve to be here. T-they’ll kill you without a second thought! They won’t just kill you, they’ll torture you, they’ll break you and they’re enjoy it. Down here, it’s—”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

You ceased all movement and dared not to breathe. Flowey stopped as well, frozen with fear. The footsteps didn’t seem to be getting any louder or softer, as if someone was walking in place to mock you.

Then silence.

A scream rips from your throat as flames came to life, creating a wall between you and Flowey. He didn’t even spare you another glance before he burrowed himself underground. A large figure stepped easily through the flames, which died out underneath them.

“What a pathetic creature...”

You dared to lift your head.

“-torturing such poor, innocent youth.”

Long, furry ears framed her face. Her grin was mad, formed by sharp rows of teeth that were not the least bit inviting. Short, curling horns stuck out from the top of her head, but none of these can compare to her eyes. Bright red flecking out her irises, her golden sclera shining with all sorts of madness, and her dilated pupils adding to her already insane appearance.

“ _Holy cow_.” You breathed.

You must be equally mad to be joking at this state.

 

* * *

  ⤫


	2. Barren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I once had a child for whom my art still aches;  
> for him,  
> let me try to make up for my mistakes

If she found your joke funny, she couldn’t have found it that funny to be laughing this hard. “Hilarious dear, but I am not a cow.” She offered her hand... or paw, but you were hesitant to take it. Those claws seemed extremely sharp. Your hand hovered over hers, thinking that once you place it on top of hers she’ll drag you into the darkness and eat you. It didn’t matter what you thought, cause she grabbed it anyway and led you into the cavern she came through.

“Come now! I shall guide you through the catacombs.” You looked over your shoulder, and saw Flowey pop out from under the ground with a somber look on his face, as if he were deciding if he were a fit flower to honor your death at your funeral.

You entered a dark room, dimly lit by torches. The shadow of a certain structure loomed above, a double set of stairs leading to the entrance. “Oh, how rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Toriel, caretaker of the ruins!” She said meekly, but walked proudly, easily stepping on each marble step as if she was made for royalty. “What is your name, my dear?”

You read a worn sign, words carved into it. ‘Only the fearless may proceed. Brave ones, foolish ones. Both not walk the middle road.’

You swallowed, afraid to test her patience by holding back. “[N-Name]...” Her kind, motherly appearance did not put you at ease in this strange, foreign world.

 

The ruins were filled with puzzles, and no matter how easy or hard Toriel insisted that you stay back else you’ll hurt yourself. Like pulling a few levers could break your arms. The whole time she blabbered continuously about being alone for so long, how you were the first human to fall in a long time, and how delighted she was to have you. She promised to give you a loving home, make pie with you, along with plans of bedtime stories and tucking you in despite you being in your twenties. She was delusional, but you felt sympathy for her. She just wanted a child to love.

It was then you encountered a froggit. The little thing seemed irritated by your presence, but was only curious enough to hop in your way and nothing more. This however, didn’t stop Toriel from incinerating it, reducing it to a pile of ashes.

“How dare you...” she snarled, furry paws balling into fists. “You filthy beast! You will not harm my child!” Needless to say, you were beyond terrified. You were paralyzed, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the poor creature that was mercilessly killed.

“There, there my sweet one.” Toriel hugged your quivering form, patting your head affectionately. “Mommy is here,” she cooed. “Mommy will protect you.”

* * *

 

“M y c h i l d ?”

...

“MY CHILD!” You were pulled back into reality, and found yourself staring into Toriel’s disapproving eyes. You wrung your hands nervously, trapped within her angry gaze. You finally found your voice, and croaked out a weak apology. The whimper in your voice did little to placate her.

You felt like a kid who was caught red-handed after breaking something. She rose her hand and you cowered, thinking that she was going to hit you, or summon her flames and burn you. But all she did was place her hand on the top of your head and nuzzle you forehead. Her eyes softened when you looked into them.

“Forgive me, my child. I did not mean to yell.” She wrapped you in another hug, and you didn’t bother to struggle against her, or do anything at all for that matter. “Come, you must be tired.”

She carefully took your hand and led you to a room and told you to get lots of rest before closing the door. You had the feeling you were supposed to stay there.

You sighed and decided to play along for now. You were confused, you were terrified, but mostly just really really tired.

The room was well-kept, but certainly not for someone your age. There were toys, shoes in a variety of sizes, and a bed where you perfectly fit in if you curled up a bit. Seeing as you had no choice, you took off your boots, flinching once you noticed the momentarily forgotten dust, and crawled under the covers. 

* * *

 

It was an overwhelmingly pleasant smell that awoke you, along with the cry of your hungry stomach. You saw a slice of pie, carefully placed on a white plate. You patted your stomach and sat upright.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

You turned your head to the dresser next to your bed, and the silhouette of a flower. “Flowey?” You smiled, relieved to see him again. You almost questioned how to hell was he able to be there when there was no ground, but then you saw what he was looking at. It was a faded picture, inserted in a delicate picture frame. In wispy stroked of calligraphy were the names written: Asriel and Chara. It was a young monster that looked much like Toriel, holding a bundle of buttercup flowers. Beside him was a human child whose face was covered by a similar bundle of flowers.

You didn’t have to ask. Despite your fear of the goat lady, you truly did believe that she was a good person. A good person struck by grief and gone astray, or is just not right in the head. But the desire to go home rivalled with your sympathy, and in the end your own life was what you wanted. You sat, pondering your next move.

“I’m... I’m sorry about awhile ago. I was just...” You waved your hand. “It’s fine. No hard feelings.” He gave you an infectious smile, and you grinned back at him.

“Are you ready?” He asked after a few moments. You nodded curtly and found a bag in the closet and a container for the half eaten pie. It was surprisingly clean, so it was safe. Flowey wrapped himself around your arm like a vine, perching himself atop your shoulder.

As much as Flowey insisted it would be best to continue without disturbing Toriel, you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave without saying goodbye. He was still protesting when you peeked into the living room.

 _She wasn’t the best person_ , you thought as you knelt down to brush away the dust. _But that doesn’t mean she’s the worst, right?_

  After a bit of stalling, or emotional preparation as you called it, you finally walked into the living room. Toriel sat peacefully on a chair next to a fireplace that perfectly fit her. A book was nestled in her grasp, and her reading glasses sat on the bridge of her nose.

“Up already, my child?” Toriel smiled when she noticed you. She eyes the yellow flower, who started shaking uncontrollably with every step you took closer. “You have company.” Her voice dropped significantly. “Did he disturb you, dearest?”

You raised your hands in defense. “No, not at all Tori—” she seemed hurt when she corrected you. “Mom.”

The word sat on your tongue uncomfortably. “M-mom,” you repeated. She seemed to relax a little.

She beckoned you over, and you sat down on the carpet next to her. “How was the pie, my dear?”

“Oh it was great! Thank you.” She seemed pleased. Relieved almost? “I am glad. I was worried if you had any allergies, so I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t until you came in the room when I thought about it. If... If I wasn’t careful I could have... I never would have forgiven myself.”

You grew nervous, expecting her to breakdown or detach from reality. “No, no!” You flinched at the volume of your voice. You were so tense. “It... It was fine, really. Don’t worry about it To-uh- _mom_.”

She smiled at you kindly and patted your head. “Would you like to hear about this book I am reading?” 

Flowey gave you a sideways glance. “Sure.”

You learned a lot about Toriel during your time with her. She had a 'poor' sense of humor, according to Flowey. You thought her horrible puns and bad jokes were hilarious. The look on Flowey's face was priceless when you cracked one yourself. She got violent at times, like when she caught Flowey was whispering to you behind her back and when you accidentally stubbed your toe—but she really was a good person. She loved snails, and had a protective and motherly side that reminded you of home. Speaking of which...

Flowey seemed to read your mind, and he gave you a worried look when you no longer seemed to be following the words of the book you were reading. With fumbling hands you closed the book and put it back in its place. Toriel also noticed.

“Is something troubling you, my child?”

“How do I get out of the underground?”

She froze. There was a feeling of dread hanging over the both of you before she finally turned around.

“Please be a good child, and go to your room. I have business that needs taking care of.” “But—“ “No buts!” She shrieked, roughly placing a paw between your shoulders and shoving you to the corridor leading to your room.

“I cannot let you go.” She murmured. “I cannot let it happen again.”

And with that she disappeared down the basement, a wispy flame licking her fingertips.


	3. Go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t go  
> Most nights I hardly sleep when I’m alone.  
> I have to go  
> Places to be, promises to keep  
> Miles to go before I sleep.  
> -Please Don’t Go, Joel Adams.  
> -Robert Frost.

You panicked. She’s upset and emotionally unstable, and seemed to be reminiscing over something? Also the ability to manipulate fire. Yeah. Not good for your current situation.

You weren’t brave. You were hesitant to follow her downstairs. You felt the need to stay and ease Toriel’s pained heart, but you were determined to go back home. You had to. You wished yourself luck and ran to the steps leading down to the basement. Before you could take the first step down, there was a soft rap on the door. You paused, exchanging glances with Flowey. Had you imagined it?

The door opened slowly and revealed a kid. They had brown hair that barely touched their shoulder and an olive complexion. They were surprised to see you, confused even. But all they said was, “Where’s Toriel?”

You blinked, looking down at the basement and back at them. They ran past you, hurrying down the steps and disappearing into the darkness. “Hey, kid, wait!” You yelped, mind taking hold of the situation. You ran after them, but they were much faster than you were. You made a final turn, and your heart jumped to your throat when you saw Toriel looming menacingly over them, flames bursting from her palms. She had a distant look in her eyes.

Before they could make another move, you grabbed them and pushed them behind you protectively. You were acting purely based on instinct. You had no idea what was happening, or what you were going to do next. You felt a tug at your chest and you felt... lighter. Your heart looming in front of you, away from where it was supposed to be, did not help your panic.

Your eyes trained on the glowing magenta, your fingers reaching out for it. Everything else around you seemed to fade into black, until you heard Flowey’s shrill voice. “[Name], look out!” At the last moment, you were able to dodge a fireball. It singed your hair a little. The kid was standing in a corner, safe from danger. The flames grew momentarily before fading into a weak flare. “Thanks Flowey,” you breathed.

You looked back at Toriel, who looked far away from reality. The magenta heart loomed closer to you, and you looked at Flowey questioningly. “That is your soul. The very culmination of your being. Please be careful.” You nodded, kneeling down so he could crawl off.

“Toriel... mom?” You called gently, taking careful steps towards her. She hesitated. “I will not let you leave.” You stood your ground. “You know I have to.” “Then you will have to get through me.”

“I won’t fight you.” You said firmly. She summoned her flames and on her command they rushed towards you. You dodged them narrowly, and frantically patted out the flame on your jeans. The fabric affected was gone and left your bare skin, red and feeling like it was being poked by a hundred needles. “I will not let you go!” She repeated. “Stay with me. I can take care of you.” Her eyes pleaded with you, but you refused.

“Then... Then allow me to give you a quick and painless end. If that is what will convince you to stay then so be it!” Her next attack caught you by surprise. You were sure you were done. You waited... but whatever pain you were expecting never came. You felt it was safe to open your eyes again, and you saw the flames an inch short of you before they disappeared completely. “Pathetic, is it not?” Her voice quivered. “I cannot save even a single child.”

She looked at you, then at the kid and Flowey. Flowey was perched on their arm, covering part of their face. This seemed familiar to Toriel. “My child, is that you?” She reached out to them before she crumpled onto the floor, hands covering her mouth.

“My children—my dear sweet stars. They never deserved to go the way they did.” Tears leaked from her eyes as you sat next to her, wrapping your arms around her. She hugged you back. “Must you go, dearest?” She looked at you, petting your hair. “We can be happy.”

“...Happy...” she repeated, before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes once again, and when she saw that there was no changing your mind she nodded. “Then do be careful, child. The world beyond these doors is a very cruel one.” You really didn’t want to leave Toriel the way she was. “Goodbye.” She left, the child and Flowey unnoticed as a blank expression took over her face, distant once again from reality. Your physical pain could not compare to this heartache. A broken mother left in a broken home. It destroyed her enough to confuse her sanity.

You stood up quietly. Whatever was going to happen next, you never could have guessed. The only way was to move forward. You didn’t know what the kid wanted, but when they accepted your outstretched hand and followed you out the door you didn’t question them.

* * *

 

The presences in Toriel’s home seemed to have vanished, but they didn’t take the twisting pain in her heart with them. She had once again, failed another child. Guilt ate at her, and she was afraid of what may come your way. But deep in her heart, she felt as though it would be alright. Maybe, just maybe she made the right decision, and you did too. But that feeling was gone as quickly as it came, and she let herself drown in guilt with the thought she might as well have sent you to your death.


	4. Footprints in the Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Here in the forest, dark and deep  
> I offer you eternal sleep  
> ( The Poor Little Rich Girl )

You walked through a long corridor, the only sound being your breathing and the rhythmic tapping of your shoes against the ground. A giant door stood in your way, and you pushed it open.

In contrast to the ruins, your new surroundings were very bright and it took you a minute to adjust. It took you another five to get used to the cold.

The doors of the ruins shut behind you, and you had a strong feeling it was going to be much harder to open from the outside. Flowey curled closer to your neck, his breath already coming out as frozen clouds. The kid pulled on their sleeves to cover their trembling hands, and you pulled your hood over your head.

Besides the cold, Flowey seemed very wary of your surroundings. You gently ran your fingers on his petals to give him some comfort. It was only now that you noticed how his petals and leaves were tattered and the healthy bloom you expected was lacking. His pistil hung low, and gave you the image that he was wilting. You glanced down at the kid who seemed to shy away from your gaze.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” You asked as you began walking. “Fine.” They answered timidly. “What’s your name?” “I’m Frisk.” “That’s a nice name,” you told them, and they smiled. They pointed at you with a questioning look. “I’m [Name].”

“It’s nice to meet you, [Name].” They said cheerily, and you smiled back at them. You remembered when they first came in, when they inquired about Toriel. You wanted to ask about that.

“I... um...” they struggled with their words, growing quiet with each passing second. “It’s fine,” you told them, albeit a little disappointed. “You don’t have to tell me.” All in due time... maybe. “What about you?” “Just a little accident,” you replied. You stepped over a branch in the path only to freeze when you heard a crackle. You looked back at the branch. It was snapped in half as if it was nothing.

“We’re not alone, are we?” You said quietly, placing both hands on either of Frisk’s shoulders and picking up the pace. You didn’t even make it to the bridge when you felt some kind of force. You couldn’t move. Literally couldn’t move. There was a red aura around you, flickering and licking your skin like a flame.

“H u m a n s.” Said a deep, gravelly voice. “D o n t y o u k n o w h o w t o g r e e t y o u r s u p e r i o r s ?” Then you were filled with an unimaginable pain.

The world seemed to blink. You were back at the door leading out of the ruins. You looked around, confused. You looked down at Frisk... that was their name, right? They were more nervous than before. Or that’s what you thought at least. Flowey looked uncertain as well. “D... Didn’t we...?” They looked up at you with the expression of a child whose mother just asked them if they did something wrong.

You shook your head and smiled faintly, looking back at the door. You could have sworn this happened literally moments ago.

_Snow_ , you thought, before you pushed open the door. Lo and behold, snow. It was as you remembered. Or what you thought you remembered? Was it déjà vu?

You started the same conversation, repeating the same lines of dialogue. You constantly looked over your shoulder, expecting someone or some _thing_. All you saw were the doors of the ruins shut as though it were never opened, and your quickly fading footsteps in the snow.

You carefully stepped over the branch once again, holding Frisk’s hand tightly as you waited for it to break. It did, just as you expected. You didn’t bother stopping, you walked faster. But like before, or what you _believed_ to be before, there was a force that stopped you from moving completely. 

“H u m a n s, d o n t y o u k n o w h o w t o g r e e t y o u r s u p e r i o r s ?” You felt as though you were being squeezed, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe. The magic let you go, dropping you to the ground on your hands and knees. You yelped when a large bone dug itself into the snow next to you, much too close for comfort. Startled, you crawled back, bumping into Frisk.

A figure loomed over you, chuckling. A lazy grin played on his skeletal mouth, and his red pinpricks seemed trained on you particularly. Out of panic, you made a snowball and threw it at him. The cold slush hit him square in the face. He blinked, somehow, processing the situation before his lazy gaze turned into a glare. His jagged teeth formed a frown and you gulped, regretting the action.

“Run.” Flowey gasped, and without hesitation you grabbed Frisk’s hand as you scrambled up to your feet. You didn’t dare look back, but it didn’t really matter. Once again the red magic ceased you, and as much as you willed any kind of movement, even just a lift of your finger, you couldn’t move. You were slowly turned around, almost mockingly to face your pursuer, as snow and gravel crunched beneath his feet.

“y’know,” the skeleton said, blowing out a puff of air. “if you were more respectful i coulda treated ya nicely. nah, ya had to run away, didn’t ya? i could end you right now. crush your skull, be over with it.” He made a tightening motion with his fingers, and along with that the force around you seemed to obey him. Tears slipped from your eyes, the ache in your head becoming too much to bear. He held it for a long, painful moment, before he released you. “that wouldn’t be any fun now would it.” There was a morbid sound of amusement in his voice.

“What do you want from us?”

He shrugged, flickering like a holographic projection before he was no more. You weren’t sure what happened, but if you blinked without realizing it there’s no way he could have moved that quickly. Yet, his presence vanished completely, as if he were never even there.

“[Name]?” You heard Frisk say, and they squeezed your hand gently. You looked down at them, forcing a smile. “L... Let’s keep moving, yeah?”

You crossed the rickety old bridge, and was surprised to find the same skeleton man leaning against some kind of checkpoint or sentry station. He chuckled, eyeing the three of you with some sort of amusement. “you actually kept goin. expected ya to run back to the ruins, hide there til ya bite the dust or whatever it is you humans do.” The skeletons eyes—or eye sockets rather—bored into Frisk’s. His grin became morbid. “knew the old hag wouldn’t have the guts to kill ya.”

“Who are you?”

Suddenly, he was behind you, his bony fingers digging into the curve of your back as his cold breath travelled down your neck. “sans, and i’ll make sure ya don’t forget it, sweetheart.” He let out a bark of laughter as you stumbled away from him, pulling Frisk into your arms protectively.

“don’t worry. i ain’t gonna kill ya.” You felt as though he was looking straight through you. “yet.” His glance shifted and he sighed unhappily. “better hide if i were you, if you don’t wanna die yet.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but feeling a presence approaching a new feeling of anxiety bubbling at the pit of your stomach, you took heed of his word and hid under his sentry station. He stood upright, walking until he was now in the middle of the path.

“SANS.” growled a low voice.

“hey boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo. thank you so much for sticking this far, this is going to be a really long story so hopefully i can pick up the pace a bit and not make it so boring
> 
> i'm sorry for these late updates, i'll try to change that <3


	5. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 'I'm strong enough,' I always told myself  
> I never want to need somebody else. 
> 
> -Britt Nicole, Safe.

Under Sans’s sentry station were some empty bottles of mustard and ketchup, and even some relish. You were determined not to move as you held your hand over Frisk’s mouth, the other on yours. Flowey shifted uncomfortably on your shoulder, staring at you then at Frisk. Whoever it was out there changed the atmosphere, as if even the earth succumbed to their presence. You could almost feel their piercing gaze, even though it probably wasn’t even at Sans’s sentry station. Speaking of Sans, he too seemed greatly affected by the presence of the other. You could tell by the way his voice dropped, softer and less smug.

“easy boss. if you glare any harder i think everything just might melt.”

The other person growled lowly, and Sans chuckled humourlessly. “IS THERE SOMETHING YOU’D LIKE TO TELL ME?”

Your heart dropped. They know. They know that you’re there and they’re going to kill you.

“there’s nothin to report. just snow, nothin different here, boss.” Despite your fear, you peeked over to the doors of the ruins. Your footprints. Did he notice? The footprints you all left were quickly being covered by snow, but they were still pretty visible.

“IS THAT RIGHT?” ‘Boss’ said in a deep nasally voice. The way he said it, as if he knew you were there. But did he? Did he notice your footprints? “AND WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO SANS? SLACKING OFF AGAIN?” Before Sans could reply, ‘Boss’ cut him off. “OF COURSE YOU WERE. THAT’S ALL YOU EVER DO ISN’T IT? I SEE YOU NEVER BOTHERED TO RECALIBRATE YOUR PUZZLES, WHICH WERE ALREADY BELOW AVERAGE. ARE YOU EVEN _TRYING_ , SANS?”

You looked over at Sans, who shrinked back into the hood of his jacket, beads of sweat forming at his skull. “oh yeah? well if you’re so great as ya say ya are, why do you always seem to be in the same boat as me, eh?”

“SANS, SO HELP ME...”

The conversation went on and on, lines of insults and retorts going back and forth which you wished Frisk didn’t have to hear until you heard an irritated sigh.

“ENOUGH! I REFUSE TO WASTE MY TIME ON YOUR SENSELESS ACTS OF LAZINESS. IF YOU WANT TO WASTE TIME THEN _FINE_ , SO BE IT, BUT IF A HUMAN COMES YOU BETTER KNOW WELL ENOUGH TO GET OFF YOUR ASS AND DO YOUR JOB.” The other stormed away, leaving Sans grumbling incoherently and flipping him off as they walked away.

You sighed, leaning back against the station in relief before you sat up straight. Sans was nowhere to be—SLAM! You jumped, a surprised squeak leaving your lips as you looked at Sans. His hand rested on the table, which you suspected to be the cause of the slam. He stared you down, unamused. You locked eyes for a moment before you stood and helped Frisk up. After making sure that they and Flowey were alright, you look back at Sans. His eyes never left yours.

“so? what’s the hold-up? ain’t nothin to be afraid of.” He grins. “it’s just a dark cavern full of skeletons and scary monsters.”

“...Who was that?” You asked him. “that,” he said. “was my shithead brother Papyrus.” You winced at his language, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked the lot of you up and down. “where are ya headed anyway? two humans and a lil weed. i should just hand ya over to the king right now.”

“Why don’t you?” You and your big mouth.

Flowey cowered, huddling closer to your neck. Frisk reached out for your hand. Sans threw his head back, laughing. “you’re probably worth watching. like i said, it’s the same thing every day. maybe you’ll give me a good show before you die.” He only sneered at the nasty look you gave him. “so lemme fill you in.”

“i’m a sentry at snowdin forest,” he said, standing up a little straighter. You guessed that even with ‘Boss’s’ harsh words, he still felt obligated to honor his duty or whatever. “my job is to watch and if need be, capture a human. but, since you’ve managed to pique my interest, i’ll let ya live for awhile.” If his words were supposed to be comforting, it didn’t work. Your breath came out frozen as you sighed quietly, looking at the path forward. “don’t expect much mercy around these parts. or anywhere at all.” You could almost feel that shit-eating grin as you looked forward. “by the way, my brother is a human huntin fanatic. i’d watch my back if i were you. If i’m not mistaken, he’s probably doin his patrols around snowdin forest.”

“Papyrus... is your brother?”

Sans lifted a eyebrow, or eye-line, before replying. “yeah, like i said.”

“Why do you call him boss?” He shrugged.

You thought for a minute. “You’re not good brothers are you?” A shadow fell over his face, and you had a feeling you were treading on thin ice. “what’s it to you?” You opened your mouth, but no voice came out. Sans scoffed, turning his back towards you before disappearing again with a flash of red.

Frisk tugged at the sleeve of your sweater, looking up at you almost pleadingly. You pet their head, providing little comfort. You felt Flowey’s tattered petals against your cheek and you turned to face him. His gaze was piercing as he stared you down. He looked like he was searching for an answer. After awhile, he smiled nervously. “We... have to be more careful.”

“Agreed.” You nodded. You looked down at Frisk who tugged their sleeve, almost angrily. You figured they were just cold. You noticed a purple and blue lamp. “What a peculiarly shaped lamp.” You smiled, comparing it’s odd shape to Frisk’s. They looked back at the lamp, then looked at you, smiling faintly.

 

As you trudged on, you noticed a faint itch at your throat.

 

Sans wasn’t lying about lack of mercy. You didn’t seem to get two feet without getting caught up in a fight. You tried your best to keep Frisk out of harm’s way, and Flowey did his best to help you. Unfortunately, his vines snapped within seconds. These people are really brutal.

You flinched when there was a rough slither against your calf, and large dragon-like creature lumbered up in front of you, lips curled in a menacing hiss.

Following the same routine you’ve picked up the last hour or so, you pushed Frisk behind you and said a timid: “Hello.” The monster didn’t bother with introductions or greetings, and summoned some ice attacks. A crescent-shaped projectile flew towards you, and you narrowly dodged it. Your soul hung in the air inches from your chest, brightly shining as if to convince you Stay Determined. Stay Kind.

“I don’t want to fight you.”

 

Flowey moved to Frisk’s shoulder, quietly conversing with them from time to time. You were curious, but decided not to intervene. They’d tell you if it was terribly important. For once, they took the lead and you were a few paces behind. Your legs were tired, your throat was sore, and everything just hurt. You didn’t even seem to realize it when you fell, blinking in surprise when you found yourself collapsed in the snow.

“[Name]!” Frisk called, running towards you. You promptly pulled yourself up, placing your hand on Frisk’s head when they reached you. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” You told them. “Just tripped. I’m a little tired.” You forced a smile. They didn’t smile back.

 

A pair of eyes, or eye sockets, watched as you waved off their worries, unsuccessfully. You frowned as you lifted your sleeve, and discovered a red patch bleeding through your bandage. It was bleeding awhile ago. It stopped, but it’s bleeding again now. Maybe a new wound you didn’t notice; or you reopened the one you got falling into the underground. Your lips pursed before you rolled it back down to catch up with Flowey and Frisk.

The pinpricks in his eyes faded, leaving empty black sockets. He didn’t know who the hell you were, how you got here or why, but he knew you couldn’t be trusted. He learned that long ago, the hard way. As if hearing his thoughts, Frisk turned around, looking in his direction. Their long brown bangs covered their eyes, and he was well hidden among the trees, but they seemed to be staring straight through him. You came into view, and anger boiled in his ribcage. If your role in this game was for better or for worse, he’ll have the _utmost privilege_ of finding out.

He perked up once he saw the ever familiar maroon shirt and spiked collar. Doggo growled, and in a low voice he demanded: “Who’s there!? I can only see moving things...” Sans scoffed. _Stupid_. He thought. Why would you reveal to someone your weakness? He watched closely, believing that since you had the upper hand, you’d fight.

But you didn’t.

“Hello,” you said. “How are you?” The canine guard jumped at the sound of your voice, baring his teeth all the more. “Don’t you fucking move!” He swung his short sword, a blue mist collecting at the edge of the blade. You froze, whether due to fear or for listening to him and it didn’t hurt you at all.

“Can I pet you? I love dogs.” Doggo drew back, confusion wiping over his features. His ears and nose twitched ever so often, looking for you. You waved kindly. “It won’t last long.”

Sans wasn’t sure to expect, but he didn’t expect Doggo to _bite_. In a idiomatic sense.

You reached over to pet Doggo, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears. Sans, frustrated as ever, left.

 

* * *

 

 

You found a snowman, if you could still consider it that. It was a barely standing lump of now, eyes drooping and carrot nose hardly intact. You tried to fix them up, but instead they asked for one request. “I cannot move. If you would be so kind, take a piece of me and take it to the ends of the earth?” They spoke in a hollow tone. You had a feeling that some other monsters in the area did this to their own personal gain. You nodded, gently patting a small ball in your nimble fingers. You choked back a sobbing apology when the snowman finally gave in, and became nothing more than a useless pile of snow.

 

* * *

 

 

Frisk stopped you when you encountered a different patch of ground, as if someone removed all snow forming a perfect square. You were about to question them until they threw a snowball into it. You bit back a scream when electricity bounced over the surface of the tampered snow. It took you awhile to get through.

You weren’t sure but twice, thrice—maybe four times? The world seemed to jump back. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t just feeling right in the head, that it was déjà vu, but it seemed like so much more. But what? Every time it happened, it became harder to talk for extended amounts of time, and you just really _really_ needed some water. But, every time it happened, Flowey and Frisk seemed to glance over at you more often, not just to check on you but as if... _as if..._

Flowey said your name in a low voice, and when you looked up there were two hooded figures. Two dogs, a couple of their sorts. His paw gripped her waist a little tightly, his toothy smile making you think back to the words you said awhile ago.

_“I love dogs.”_

When their axe hit you and you found yourself back beside the mouse hole. 

 

* * *

 

 

You hugged you knees, curled up against the large sign that read ‘Welcome to Snowdin!’, inhaling through your nose and exhaling with a soft ‘haaaah.’ It was something you picked up before to keep warm, but even your breath began to freeze. The cold stung your wounds, even when Flowey managed to cover it with some healing herbs out of nowhere, and gave you what was called his 'friendliness pellets'. 

“[Name]...?” Frisk whispered, huddling closer to you. They brushed their fingers over your cheek, and you felt a quickly fading warmth. They must’ve tried rubbing their hands and blowing into them, but even that didn’t seem to work.

“Hey, Frisk... how are you doing?” They shrugged. Even kids get tired about lying about being fine. You looked over at Flowey who was shaking uncontrollably. You brushed off the tiny specs of ice that collected in his petals.

You heard snow crunching and you looked to see Sans... again.

“...what?” You asked him. He scoffed, almost laughing, his golden tooth glowing with soft light from the town past the sign you were leaning on.

“humans are fuckin pansies. cold affect ya that much?”

You didn’t reply. You just leaned your head back once more and closed your eyes. Frisk leaned against you.

“somethin wrong, sweetheart? you were so talkative awhile ago.” You just shrugged. Sans didn’t say anything else, but you felt him roll his... eyes... before he began walking. You opened your eyes and watched, before you got on your feet and pulled Frisk to their and began to follow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh thank you so much for staying this long, and for dropping lovely comments and kudos.  
> I really appreciate it!  
> I added something to the tags and to the last chapter... I wonder if you'd notice?  
> anyway, about these late updates, again I'm so sorry. I've been real busy lately and I don't think it's gonna change much for the next 3 weeks, but once summer rolls in I'll be sure to spoil you guys with updates <3


	6. Dead City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The looks on their faces  
> And snow that looks like ash  
> Tells me that the town may not be so lovely

You almost fell for the kind vibe the cute little town gave, with its glowing Christmas lights and even what you believed to be a Christmas tree. You contemplated waving hello to the citizens, but when you felt Frisk tug at you sweater you thought twice.

Everyone around you looked so... angry. Whether at you or something else you decided to steer clear from them. You wrapped an arm around Frisk and walked a little faster to catch up with Sans. There was no promise whatsoever that he’d protect you, but so far he’s the only person who didn’t try to hurt you.

You eyebrows furrowed at the thought. _The only person who didn’t try to hurt you?_ You were caught in some sort of flashback, only it was so _vivid_. The pain, your scream, the red glow... You gripped the cuffs of your sweater as you shook your head. This place is getting to you. You need to get home, quick. As you glanced down at Frisk, you decided the first thing you would do was bring them to your house, wrap them up and give them some hot cocoa before you go looking for their parents. Flowey can come too.

“are ya gonna follow me all day?” You blinked owlishly at him. “what are ya waitin for, a formal tour? a big welcome? i don’t know if you’ve noticed how this place works; do ya need me to show ya the ropes? i don’t know, i think you got everything covered.” You frowned. His grin suddenly seems menacing, almost mocking as you remember all the times you’ve... died? You haven’t quite put a finger on it.

...

Then your lips tugged into a sly grin. Sans looked at you expectantly.

“Sorry, are you a little _tied up_ at the moment?” Frisk giggled unexpectedly, and Flowey’s tiny mouth is agape before he groans disapprovingly. Sans’s eyesockets elevate in surprise, but otherwise he scoffs and waves you off.

“see ya later, doll face.”

“I don’t like that skeleton.” Flowey grumbles when Sans disappears again. You looked around, subtly wondering if anyone else saw that. If they did, they didn’t seem to question it. You nodded. “He’s a weird character.”

A somber silence hung heavily in the air. No one was happy. “Are you guys tired? I’m tired,” you asked. The chirpy tone you had hoped to speak with in order to spread _some kind_ of positivity only seemed to match your weary soul. Frisk nodded, and Flowey’s low hanging pistil was his answer for you.

You turned back, the feeling of being watched never leaving you. You could practically feel the other monsters’ glare behind your skull, but if they knew at all that two _humans_ were walking around their town they didn’t quite seem to care enough. You entered the inn, and a bunny lady greeted you. Smoke drifted around the room, the source being the cigarette between her fingers.

“Welcome to Snowed Inn,” she exhaled, a puff of smoke leaving her lips. You smiled. Snowdin. Snowed Inn. Snowed in. “I like the name.” She gives you a knowing smirk and straightens up when you ask how much per room. “One night 80G,” she replied curtly. You reach into your bag, which has seen much better days since the last few hours. The pie was still there, tucked in neatly and waiting to be eaten.

She hands you your key and waves before lifting the cigarette to her mouth once again.

“Don’t eat it all,” you tell Frisk. “Might be useful later.” They promptly agree with you.

Your feet took you outside to explore when Frisk fell asleep. Flowey was on top of a table, asleep as well. If it weren’t for his steady breaths, you would’ve thought that the tattered flower was already dead.

Your eyes met with the bunny at the counter. Beside her was an ashtray brimming with cigarette butts. She turned away, tapping her furry fingers along the desk as she continued reading her magazine.

Yes, indeed, you were in the underground; but for some reason you felt like, or knew that it was around night time. A lone Christmas tree stood in front of you, and you can’t help but wonder why it was there. Sounds of glass breaking and bar fights emanated from what you very strongly suspected was a bar. Grillby’s, you read. There were still some townsfolk out, standing idly in the open waiting for something to happen. A silent voice in your mind questioned why the clothing here never seemed to be different from black, red, yellow, and sometimes white. One day you’ll know. Maybe, maybe not.

When you inspected the Christmas tree, you found a bear behind it, placing a present under the tree. He noticed you staring, and quite placidly he stared: “A bunch of kids riled up a monster back in the woods. That fella decided to take revenge by messing up the town. We put gifts under the tree for it when it got too much, now it’s just sorta tradition to put presents under a tree. Nothin much better do ‘round here.” This time, the bear turned to look at your properly. “Huh,” was all he said before standing up and leaving.

You encountered another bear in front of Grillby’s. He looked you up and down, a laid-back Cheshire grin spreading on his burly bear face. “If there’s ever an issue… it’s usually caused by citizens messing with the royal guards to spite them. And a skeleton will yell at another skeleton before dealing with the issue. That’s politics.” You gave him a strained smile. You would’ve laughed, if only the skeleton wasn’t Papyrus and the other skeleton wasn’t Sans and the issue wasn’t you. 

A scarfed mouse stood beside Grillby’s. They seemed to be troubled by the ruckus going on inside. “I don’t get how they can be so carefree. I get it, we’re real close to freedom but I don’t like how we have to kill to achieve that. I still don’t understand why humans—” they glanced at you momentarily. “—trapped us down here in the first place. I’d love to make jokes and be ignorant about all this, but it’s hard when this world is kill or be killed. All these morbid jokes and the everyday ignorance... I get it, we have to cope somehow,” said the scarfed mouse. “But... it’s just not funny. And I can’t just fucking forget that we’re trapped here until they kill another human. That itself is just sick. We live in a world where it’s kill or be killed.” You offered some comforting and reassuring words. The mouse gave you a weird look, but thanked you for trying.

“A lot changed since the war. Monsters became bitter towards humanity and each other. The younger ones take after them. Maybe once the barrier breaks, it can stop. There’s no point in being morose,” said the nacarat jester. “We might as well live with what we have, and until the barrier is broken this is how it’ll be.” A few moments passed before their jester smile became a little less meaningful. “...is what I would tell you if I actually meant it. I’m sick of this place.”

Honestly, speaking with these people only gave you more questions. You remembered holding a book on the history of monsters, but you were too busy worrying about Toriel to care much about the book. Thankfully, there was a library… or, librarby.

“Yes, we know the sign outside is spelled wrong,” said the lizard-like monster, not bothering to look at you. You sat down in a corner, picking up a few books… some newspaper articles… and some school essays.

‘ _Long ago, two races ruled the earth: humans and monsters. Without warning, the humans attacked the monsters, which caused a war to rise between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious.  They banished the monsters underground and sealed them with a magic spell. There was no reason as to why the humans attacked in the first place, when they lived in peace with only minor setbacks here and there, but there will never be an excuse for the ashes that spread and the grief they’ve caused to monsters everywhere._ ’

 ‘ _Because they are made of magic, monsters’ bodies are attuned to their SOUL. If a monster doesn’t want to fight, its defences will weaken; and the crueller the intentions of our enemies, the more their attacks will hurt us. Therefore, if a being with a powerful SOUL struck with the desire to kill..._

 _Let’s end it here, this is morbid as fuck._ ’ Red ink encircled the final word, a deduction of points written next to it.

You found a torn newspaper article that slipped out of a white folder, which you assumed was a student’s project. ‘ “ _Anyone can come in the barrier, but to leave needs at least a human soul and a monster soul. To break the barrier will need seven.” Explained the royal scientist._ ’ The explained the hunting for humans. ‘ _Love, hope, compassion... this is what people say human SOULs are made of, but the absolute nature of the SOUL is unknown. Afterall, humans proved that they didn’t need these things to exist._ ’

You realized just how hurt the monsters were. There was no warning for the sudden attack of humans, or no reason for doing so, and they’ve all been trapped here for the longest time. Monsters became bitter and resentful, full of hate but not without a cause. They were all just hurting inside.

Ugh, another reason why you hate humans, despite being one yourself.

You were surprised to see Sans outside. “you’re still here.” He said. “Is that a bad thing?” He shrugged. He didn’t seem that scary any more. Having your mind opened puts you in a completely different perspective.

“’m assuming you’re stayin at the inn?” You nodded. “How long?” You shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on Papyrus. When is he coming back?” He shrugged again.

“he’s usually always out. comes to check ever so often, mostly on me lazing about, but also gets some reports from the canine unit. otherwise, he’s out in waterfall or hotland. forgets to come home a lot of nights. got a ton of work every single day, it seems.”

“A ton?”

“that’s what i said.”

“A skele- _ton_? Working to the _bone_?” You shot him a double barrel gotcha. His eye sockets widened before he shrunk back into the fluffy hood of his jacket, fighting back an amused grin. “Anyway, when does he come home?”

“when he needs to sleep. eat sometimes.”

“You skeletons eat?” It sounded rude, and you were about to apologize. “yeah. would be a crime to pass up on grillby’s.” He paused. “papyrus thinks it’s below his standards though.”

Grillby’s? Oh the bar.

“I haven’t been there yet.” He looks at you incredulously. “no?” “No.” He huffed, staring at you as if you just insulted him. “c’mon dollface, let’s go.”

You blinked. “What?”

“let’s go to grillby’s.”

 


	7. It Goes On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...or at least until you mess up.  
>  Funny isn't it? One would love a do-over when something goes wrong.  
> But as time turns back, unsure if it's in your favor  
> You begin to get tired of repeating the same mistakes

Now, you felt it was safe to stare at him. His proportions were all wrong for a skeleton, rib cage much wider than a normal one’s and his eyes and mouth made no sense to you. You reminded yourself he wasn’t an actual human skeleton. He was shorter than you, eyes maybe level to your mouth if he stood straight, you weren’t sure.

Grillby’s was significantly warmer and livelier than the rest of the town, which filled you with a sense of silent euphoria until you noticed them staring. Confused, some angry, some unreadable which put you in a nervous state. “take a picture, it lasts longer.” Sans barked, and after a few seconds everyone went back to whatever they were doing. You followed Sans to the counter, carefully stepping over some broken glass.

“evenin’ grillbz.” Sans muttered as he took a seat. You stared incredulously at the bartender. His entire body was quite literally made of fire, flickering like a flame would ever so often and licking the hems of his clothes and his glasses... his glasses? “what’re ya waitin for, a written invitation?” You stammered as you took your seat next to him and frowned slightly when next to you, Sans scoffed, unamused.

“what d’you want, sweetheart?” You scanned the menu, which mostly just consisted of random drinks and just a few food items.

“Fries,” you decided. “a double order of fries, then,” Sans said.

You couldn’t stop staring at Grillby. He’s made of fire, but he’s not emitting any smoke. How are his glasses staying on his head? Why does he even need glasses when he doesn’t particularly even have a face? Can water still hurt him? How is he alright with having a human in his pub?

“it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.” Sans said in a low voice, leaning against his hand. At the same time, Grillby came over to give you your food.

“Sorry...” you mumbled. “Guess he’s just too hot.” Grillby’s fire brightened up for a moment, and the red bird next to you nearly spat out his drink. You couldn’t suppress your smile. “Thank you,” you told him with a small laugh when he placed your plate in front of you. He paused for a moment before nodding.

“...can you repeat that?” Sans said, sounding uncertain. Confused even?

You looked at him. “‘Thank you.’” He just stares. “...Um...”

Sans waves his hand. “forget about it.”

You look down, slouching a bit as you leaned against the counter. You felt something stuck at the back of your throat and thought of asking for some water, but considered it would be awkward, and maybe it was an unspoken rule considering your host is made of fire. So you just focus on chewing thoroughly for an easier swallow. Besides that, you couldn’t help but shrink into your seat as you ate. There are stares burning into your back, unspoken thoughts filling the room with some sort of tension.

“...good, right?” Sans asks after awhile and you nod. There’s a pleased smile on his face. A moment of silence passes by again before he speaks. “so sweet cheeks, what exactly are ya try’n to accomplish here?”

You look at him. The answer should be obvious, but there’s something in Sans’s eyes that tells you it wasn’t meant to be a stupid question. He’s looking at you as if he’s expecting more.

“...going out.” You answer anyway. “To the surface.”

“that so?” He nixed. “how exactly are ya plannin’ on doin’ that with your stupid goodie two shoes shtick, eh?” He noticed the look on your face as confusion and then disbelief to what he was implying washed over your face. He lowered his voice to a whisper that even you, just inches away from him, could barely even hear. But his words chilled you to the bone. “ya ain’t goin’ nowhere if ya don’t got a killer in you.”

You opened your mouth to say something in contrary, but Sans cut you off.

“so you were able to play by your own rules. i bet you feel great, huh? but what will you do if you meet a relentless killer? you’ll die and you’ll die and you’ll _die_ —until you get tired of tryin’. what’ll you do then, huh? will you kill out of frustration?”

You shook your head fervently in disapproval.

“sweetheart, i don’t think anyone told ya, but in this world, it’s **_kill or be killed_**.”

Maybe you were just too naive, or maybe it was simply something you learned in all your years. “Never.” You’ve been taught better. “ _Always_ be kind,” you said firmly. You fish out some gold from your pocket and drop them on the counter, muttering a small “have a good night” before leaving. Again, you felt their cold stares burning right through you, but you shrugged them off as you stepped back into the cold and unforgiving darkness.

You took a deep breath and released it with a sigh. Head hanging, you walk back to the inn. Yes, perhaps you now understood what the monsters felt. You empathized in their pain, the need to inflict pain on others, put yourself in their shoes and understood. But even with this knowledge, knowing in the back of your mind that kindness may not conquer everything, it doesn’t mean you were ready to give up what you’ve been taught. It doesn’t mean you were about to give up your values and principles so you could live another day. No matter what, you were determined to stay kind until the very end. If it were possible, maybe show them to treat others with kindness too.

You reached the inn, but didn’t go in. Your hand rested on the knob, and the chilling words ‘kill or be killed’ left as a ghost of an echo from your lips before you entered. You made eye contact with the lady at the counter, and you said nothing as you went upstairs.

Flowey’s pistil hung low, and you lightly touched his petals. Frisk was facing the wall, covers pulled up to their cheeks. You slip in beside them, only about an inch away from touching them. The bed was small, but hey, at least you’re not out in the snow, right? You lay there for what seems like hours, though it’s only been about two minutes, staring blankly at the ceiling and listening to the snores from the other room. Frisk stirs beside you, mumbling something. You can’t make it out. They turn towards you, hand landing over your stomach. “[Name]...” they whisper, lips quivering as if they were about to cry. “I’m so, so sorry...”

Nimble fingers reached over and threaded themselves in Frisk’s dark brown locks, a hushing sound leaving your lips as you comforted them. You weren’t sure if they were half-asleep or completely awake for a few moments, but a minute passed and their breathing relaxed.

What were they apologizing for? You wrote it off as a nightmare, but a voice in your head whispers: ‘it’s going to be okay.’ A voice that you couldn’t quite place as your own.

* * *

 

As you are about to sleep, your hands graze over Frisk’s nape. The only thing in your mind was that whatever it was, it reminded you of the flowers from the very beginning. You squint through the darkness, and saw a budding yellow flower. Then you close your eyes and drifted into a dreamless slumber. 

* * *

 

The next day, you all decided to move forward. Flowey was reluctant, however, but curled himself around Frisk’s arm. A half-eaten pie was all that was in your bag, and some loose gold you weren’t able to fit in your pockets. You placed the key on the counter, uttering your thanks. The lady flashes you an odd look. “Sure,” she mumbles, and offers a small wave as you leave.

You blew into your hands and rubbed them. Frisk did the same. Stopping by Grillby’s for breakfast crossed your mind, but you also thought that the only reason you weren’t killed last night was because Sans was there. He isn’t here now. Instead, you settle on some cinnamon buns. The saleslady, you suspected was the sister of the innkeeper next door, looked you up and down, an eyebrow cocking up but otherwise, treated you like any other customer. “Thank you,” you said again. Again, another odd look. You’ve grown used to it, but you still wonder why was it so weird when you thank someone? Yes, they are violent and hostile, but its common etiquette, is it not? Or has this world seen so much, perhaps too much, that even words like ‘thanks’ and ‘sorry’ are so meaningless nobody has bothered to say it?

A hacking cough ripped from your throat, leaving a burning feeling in your chest. Before turning to leave, you ask the purple bunny if she had any water. To your dismay, there was not. You can hear the rush of water from somewhere nearby, but you thought you weren’t that desperate. Not _yet_ anyway.

You pass by Grillby’s, the library, and a nice-looking house decorated with Christmas lights and of course, snow, before the air around you become thicker and as white as the snow you stand on. Frisk freezes up beside you, and their hold on your hand tightens.

You know why.

Through the mist, you see a tall, skeletal figure. A red-orange flare licks his right eye-socket like a flame. You never saw Papyrus before, but you were positive this was him. You see Sans a distance away. His hood is pulled over his head, and his Cheshire grin seems more like an upturned smile. Written all over Papyrus’s rage. You hold up your free hand. Your soul is pulled out of your body and the word ‘wait’ never leaves your mouth as a bone materializes and penetrates itself through your soul and body. The last thing you see are the cracks in the comical heart running through the middle and it shatters.

You find yourself back in the inn, coughing mildly as you roused. You feel something from inside you, making it difficult to breathe. You place your hand over your chest— _right where Papyrus stabbed you_. You look around. Frisk is still asleep. Flowey however, was staring at you as if he’d seen a ghost.

“[Name]...” Flowey began. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine.”

It happens again.

“Hello? How are you?”

And again.

“I don’t want to fight.”

And again.

“Can we talk this out...?”

“THAT ISN’T SOMETHING WE CAN DO, SORRY.” His apology was condescending, a menacing grin on his face. But you accept it as an apology anyway, and tell him: “It’s okay. We can try again.” Before everything turns to black, you see Sans staring at you.

* * *

 

 “[Name]?” Frisk mumbles and you hush them and pull them close to your chest. They don’t argue and wrap their arms around your body, pressing their face against your collarbone. You think you see a golden flower peeking from under their jaw.

* * *

 

You wake up a few hours later and carefully remove Frisk’s arms from you. They’re fast asleep. You guess it’s about 10 in the morning by now. Flowey is awake.

“Good morning,” you mumble.

“Good morning.”

You clutch at your black and white knit striped sweater, fist trembling. “Flowey, can I ask you something?”

“...sure.”

“Do you ever get the feeling of déjà vu? Like... maybe this happened before?”

“...no.”

“...Alright.”

* * *

 

He feels bad for lying. He can’t tell you. How can he? He can’t tell you about the flowers that Frisk hides under their sweater. [ _At least the ones that they could_.] He can’t tell you about Frisk or their ability either. He fears you may ask a significant question, and he’s afraid he can’t answer. _Besides, you alone are a question he can’t answer_. 

* * *

 

You thank him anyway, and told him to go back to sleep. You get out as quietly as you could, and went downstairs. You greet the innkeeper and she nods in response. You march forward, arms hugging yourself. Maybe it was the cold, or perhaps it was your own way of comforting yourself before you face death alone.

“i wouldn’t go there if i were you.” You stop and turn around.

Sans is sitting on the stairs of the house. It was his house.

“...Why not?” _You didn’t seem to care the past few times_.

The pinpricks in Sans’s eyes flicker, and for only a moment you saw empty voids. “trust me, sweetheart.” He flashes you a crooked grin. “grillby’s?” he offers.

“...Okay.”  

* * *

 

“What’s Papyrus like?” You ask Sans.

“he’s a fucking dick.” He sees the look on your face as you sigh quietly. “ _‘...the greatest and most fearsome monster in the royal guard. won’t stop until he gets everything he utterly deserves. he will bathe in a shower of kisses every morning, will be feared and nonetheless loved._ ’ pretty sure that gives you an idea of how much of a bonehead he is.”

You watch [a bit disgusted] as he downs an entire bottle of mustard.

“Royal Guard?”

“exactly what you expect it to be, honey. and papyrus is the _captain_ of it. he’s not afraid to use his position against you either... he’s not afraid to do anything against anybody.”

“Not even you?”

Sans stops. “...what makes you think that, sugar?”

You hesitate. “That crack on the back of your head.” He’s silent. “I’m sorry.” You tell him.

He shifts, thinking before he speaks again. “sweetheart, can you tell me something? you seem like you won’t be straying from your pursuit-of-kindness any time soon, but why? ya don’t owe it to anyone here. violence is the only thing everyone knows nowadays.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “...Sans, what do you think the human world is like in the surface?”

His eyesockets narrow. “must be pretty nice up there. got the sun, got fresh air, what more could you possibly need? bet the human world is all sunshine and rainbows.”

“It’s not.”

“it’s not?”

“Truthfully, your world and mine aren’t very different.”

You feel his gaze linger on you as you stare at your food; suddenly not interested in eating.

“you’re not answering my question, sweetheart.”

“Sometimes, kindness is all we have. Sometimes it’s enough. And it’s enough for me. The surface isn’t as happy and easy however you may think it to be, and while a simple act of kindness may not do so much to improve society it’s better than making it worse.” You paused. “And I think everyone deserves kindness. Sometimes the meanest people are only the way they are because ‘mean’ is the only thing they’ve ever known. I like to think that a simple act of kindness can change something within them. I’m the type of person who sees potential within everyone, and if they did something wrong they must have a reason for it.”

“so you believe that everyone can be a good person, if they just try?” Sans says as if he still doesn’t believe you; in a way that’s supposed to be sarcastic or rhetorical.

“Yes.”

Sans’s jaw clenches, and his grin was nothing more than a grimace. He says nothing more.

* * *

 

Sans leaves with the words “see ya ’round, sweetheart.” You reach into your pockets for some gold, and ask Grillby if you can have the rest of your food to go. You cough into your hand as he places a small box of fries in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “But is it possible for you to give me a glass of water?”

He gives you a singular nod and reaches for a glass and a plastic bottle. Relief floods through your throat, and you thank Grillby. As you reach for your pockets once more, he waves his hand. You give him a confused look, and he pats your shoulder. He doesn’t burn you. His fire is pleasantly warm.

He cocks his head to the side. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

You see the ghost of a gentle smile in his flames.

This is new.

_Perhaps he listened to your conversation?_

Instead of pushing forward like you had originally planned, you turned back and went to the inn. You met Frisk and Flowey on the way out, and after an awkward exchange of stares they tackle you in a hug. You apologize for worrying them, and give Frisk the box of fries.

When they offered to share with you, you wave your hand and tell them you already ate. So they share with Flowey instead. He only eats one, though.

You linger around the side of the inn for a bit, and Frisk stares at something in front of them. When you ask them if they were alright, they nodded.

“Let’s keep going?”

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Come to think of it, didn't Sans say something similar? You get your hopes up. Maybe he knows? Maybe he knows how it feels? Or maybe you're just getting desperate. Perhaps he just said that in the heat of the moment. His message was clear anyway, you'll die.

... and you died again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And—well, _you get the point_.

But you push forward.

Why?

A voice echoes in the back of your head.

_Stay determined._

**_Truthfully, you don’t think you can keep it up for much longer._ **

_You are the future of humans and monsters._

**_But you continue. It's really the only thing you can do._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm so sorry for my absence. plz 4giv  
> My puppy died recently, and besides that life just hasn't been very kind. But things are okay and looking bright, and to compensate, here's a longer chapter.  
> I apologize again. This is going by very slowly. I hope to make things escalate by the next chapter.  
> Sorry again, have a lovely day/night.


	8. Make or Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note before we begin. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD FINISH THIS CHAPTER.  
> First off, I apologize for my absence. There's been a lot going on, coupled with my mindblock and therefore I haven't been able to update as much as I'd like to. Another apology that this might go on for a bit, so I will formally establish that this story is on semi-hiatus. 
> 
>  
> 
> Second, I am aware that the fanfic Overgrowth by SociopathicArhangel has been taken down. While my story was inspired by the AU's and their story, I have not had any thoughts of cancelling my own. However, I hope that everyone is now aware of the single condition of enjoying a piece of work. I also hope that more are now respecting the creators and are now aware that stealing content is disrespectful and quite hurtful to the creators. 
> 
>  
> 
> Third, this chapter is now the mark of changing the title from 'For A Crime I Didn't Commit' to 'You Are My Solace.' I hope everyone is satisfied with this change. Without further ado, may I present to you the eighth chapter. 
> 
> * * *
> 
> _make or break_  
>  1\. Be the factor that decides whether (something) will succeed or fail.
> 
>  
> 
> And while I have succeeded in pushing forward to see the sun set, I've failed in keeping myself together for it, and it seems I am at my wit's end.
> 
> ⤟⤠

Frisk doesn’t know how much longer they can keep their ‘clueless’ act on. Especially with the way they’re going. The flowers, markers of death, have only so far appeared under their clothes, where they can hide it with their sweater; until recently when one appeared by the nape of their neck and under their jaw. You were pretty distracted, so they were relieved you didn’t see; but there’s no telling where the next flower will appear; perhaps on their head, or their cheek, somewhere visible. Maybe Frisk can just say they didn’t know what you were talking about... _No. That’s horrible_. Frisk remembered the first time they saw the flowers. Not even Flowey could answer them, and no one was there to empathize the pain of seeing your failure literally marked on you.

And speaking of flowers... where were yours? Maybe you were hiding them too, dreading the day one appears where you can’t hide. Or was Frisk the only one with this curse? Their punishment for the crimes they’ve inflicted, even _daring_ to reset every timeline to compensate?

To compensate... _right_. They’ve only failed about every single time.

* * *

 Waking up seems to always start gasping for air or with a terrible headache. You’re wheezing this time, clutching the fabric of your sweater. Your head is pounding, and you have to remind yourself to focus on breathing. The last thing you need right now is a relapse.

You tell Frisk and Flowey that you all should stay for another night before moving forward. You think that whatever magic this world is entangled in, the fates decided no matter what time you leave that you’ll be encountering Papyrus... So you can either find a way through him or hide forever.

You’re tempted to do the latter.

“New day, new beginning.” You murmured, hoping that this time things would go your way for once.

It doesn’t.

* * *

 

“Help me-!” You cried out as a jagged bone goes through your body. You hear a sickening crunch as you fall, and the cries of your little flower friend and Frisk. Your vision is blurry as you look at Sans, then focus on a little white flower bathed in red. You think it’s a snowdrop. 

* * *

Chamomile tea. The first thing that comes to mind you wake up for the fourth time... or was it the fifth, today? Was it even ‘today’ anymore? [Well, it doesn’t matter, you’re here now, aren’t you?] Chamomile always helped with stress. Frisk isn’t up either, and Flowey doesn’t argue when you say you don’t think you should keep going today.

“g’mornin, sweetheart.” You heard a voice behind you and flinch. For a split second, everything around you is clearer, sharpened even. You feel your heart pound and your breathing. As you turn around and look at Sans, everything goes back to normal. You’re clutching your sweater where your heart should be, eyes as wide as plates as you make eye contact. “y’alright, sweetheart? ya musta jumped ten feet in the air.”

You swallow. You can’t find the words to say, not even a simple ‘I’m fine.’ So you raise your hand.

‘G-R-I-L-L-B-Y-S-?’ You sign.

You bite your tongue when he cocks his head to the side. Guess you never expected him to understand.

“...Grillby’s?”

You expect him to ask why, but instead he nods and starts walking. You follow wordlessly.

“you’re lucky, sweetheart. grill’s got a secret menu when you come in early for breakfast.”

“...Does he, by any chance have tea?” You whisper.

“sure.” He says. “if ya ask nicely... but you won’t have a problem with that, will you dollface?” He gives you a smirk to which you frown, the trace of a smile lingering after. You figured this could be your little inside joke.

 

Your lovely, fiery host sadly did not have any of the tea you desired, but he did have those little green tea bags, which were good enough. As you watched customers come and go, you also watched your companion. Sans seemed to be taking so long with his fries, seeming to be more focused on his bottles of mustard. You catch yourself staring at the crack on his head, and just as you look away he catches you too.

“there something you wanna tell me, dollface?” You shake your head. Sans grins—actually grins, something genuine [genuinely painful but it’s one of those grins where you smile to say it hurts but I’m still going]—and his eyes go dark again. “go ahead.”

You’re not sure if he’s reminiscing over something or if he’s daring you, but you’re too curious to considerate the latter.

“Did Papyrus do that?”

“yeah, he did.”

“Why?”

“why d’you wanna know anyway, honey?”

“I want to know why he’d hurt his own brother.”

He grunts, a little choked up grunt, hunching his shoulders as if trying to hide his face from you. “a tale for another time, sweetheart. just finish your food.”

 

As customers come and go, you notice his hand reach over to the back of his hand and his phalanges run down the jagged crack.

 

. . .

“Are you okay?”

“... thanks for askin, sweetheart.”

 

 

Sans leaves earlier than you do. “see ya later, sweetheart.” He mutters and spares a single glance to Grillby before walking out.

You watch as the door closes, and you spend the last few minutes savouring the last of your tea. You’re not sure if you’re ready to go back out there.

Grillby seems to be staring at you, and it makes you feel a little flustered. It suddenly felt like everyone in the room were burning gaping holes into your back.

“Thanks for the tea,” you murmur, reaching into your pockets for some loose change. Grillby waves his flaming hand dismissively, and nods over to the plate of unfinished fries. You cock your head to the side, a little confused. You see a smile behind the flames, and you can’t help but smile back.

* * *

 “[Name]...” You barely heard Flowey over the gust of wind. Everything around you was mixed with a blur of white, and little patterns of snowflakes are caught in yours and Frisk’s hair. Flowey is shaking, petals tickling the back of your neck. “Do... do you hear that?”

“I hear it too!” Frisk straightens up, looking further into the snowfall.

You strain your ears, willing yourself to hear what they hear. Your eyes widen upon hearing a familiar voice.

“just—hear me out, alright!?”

Is that Sans?

“THERE’S NOTHING WORTH LISTENING TO IF IT’S FROM YOU, SANS! ESPECIALLY THIS. I CATCH A RUMOR THAT A HUMAN HAD FALLEN AND IS CURRENTLY IN SNOWDIN AND WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!? ‘THINK ABOUT THIS,’ YOU SAY?”

Frisk squeezes your hand, something that seems to have become customary over your few ‘setbacks’.

“yes!” Sans says, exasperated. “look, it’s great and all that we have the last human we need in order to break the barrier, but shouldn’t we at least keep this one as like, an asset? we-we could capture the human, keep them alive for a little bit, just to find out some things before blindly running into the surface! we wouldn’t want everything everyone’s been waiting for to be torn away by history repeating itself, right?”

You hear the rush in his voice, as though he’s making this up as he goes on.

“[Name]... we should go. This might be our one opportunity to get around him.” Something about the way he said that makes you feel as if he, too, has been keeping track of the jumps in time. You shrug it off.

“’sides, from what i hear it’s not all good in the surface as we think it to be; circumstances up there may be worse than the hundreds of years ago we’ve been trapped here.”  

“...FROM WHAT YOU _HEARD_?” There are slight pauses in Papyrus’s words. Anxiety is building up. “YOU’VE SPOKEN WITH THEM!?” The taller skeleton bellowed, a bone materializing in his hand, shaped like a dagger.

Sans is frozen, and a bead of cold sweat trickles down the side of his skull.

“YOU’VE BEEN FRATERNIZING WITH THE HUMAN, SANS?” Papyrus demanded, stepping forward. “ALL YOU’VE DONE, EVERYTHING YOUR ROUTINE IS CONSISTED OF IS EAT, SLEEP, SLACK AND QUITE BASICALLY BE **USELESS**. AND FINALLY, WHEN YOU’VE HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO ATTEST AGAIN BEING A SACK OF SHIT, YOU’VE ONCE MORE PROVEN YOUR INCOMPETENCE BY COMMITING TREASON AGAINST THE THRONE!?” Papyrus returns Sans’s hollow grin with a disdainful smile. “WELL, _BROTHER_ ,” there’s an air of sarcasm as he spat the word. “I DIDN’T THINK YOU COULD DO IT.”

Papyrus leans down at Sans, and Sans wouldn’t look at him. His voice drops to a whisper.

“I didn’t think you could have made me more disappointed and ashamed of you than I already was. Congratulations, _brother_.”

Sans sinks into his jacket, and you could feel your heart break as you watched.

Papyrus’s smile falters, and he seems to have taken into account that you were there. “Well, well, well. Look who’s here.” Papryus turns the dagger manifested beforehand towards you, and veils of red cloaks and almost overcomes the white blur of snow. He glances sideways at Sans, sneering. “Look, Sans. Your little friend is here. Perhaps you’d have a little mercy for the rest of us and join them in death?” Sans doesn’t even flinch. “No? Then I’ll have to deal with you, later.”

You’re frozen, and Frisk clutches on to you. They’re shaking. They’re scared, you think; but a thought in your head that seems to have disregarded the face of death airs that perhaps it could have just been the cold. You swallow then close your eyes. There’s no way you’re getting out of this now. It’s up to the fates now if they’d like for you to try again. Meanwhile, you’ve resigned to death, and closing your eyes before you grasp his withered hand is a little comforting. Besides, what difference would it make if you’d just wake up in the tiny, compressed corners of the inn?

You feel the rush of red energy towards you, and you brace yourself for the momentary pain before you fade into another point in time.

...but it never came.

You’re afraid to open your eyes until you hear a questioning snarl in Papyrus’s voice. “SANS? WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING.” You see the faux fur in Sans’s hood fluttering in the wind, laced with snowflakes.

“spitin ya, and i think it’s working.”

“STEP ASIDE, UNLESS YOU’D LIKE FOR ME TO DUST YOU BOTH.”

“what’s stopping ya?” Sans barks. “what was it you said? you’d be doin the entire underground a _favour_ if you killed me. so, what’s stopping ya? my death would be a nice addition to the last soul we need, wouldn’t it?” Sans’s grin turns menacing, challenging almost. “so go ahead.”

Papyrus stares the both of you down, red pupils glaring into your soul. Papyrus clicks his fingers and the red veneers fade into the snowfall.

“IF YOU’D SAID ANYTHING THAT COULD HAVE ACTUALLY BEEN WORTH SOMETHING YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, IT’D HAVE BEEN TO TAKE THIS HUMAN AS CAPTIVE TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE SURFACE. DON’T GET TOO COMFORTABLE WITH YOUR NEW FRIENDS, SANS. AND IF YOU TRY TO ESCAPE, HUMANS, I WILL NOT HESITATE TO GIVE YOU A DEATH SO HORRID IT WILL HAUNT YOU INTO THE AFTERLIFE.”

Bone crushes bone and the remnants of his dagger falls into the snow.

“SPEAKING OF, YOUR DEATH IS NOTHING BUT DELAYED, UNDERSTAND?”

His gaze shifts to Sans and the world blinks. For a second, you think you’re going back for another repeat, but as the world pulls down from under your feet you see that Sans, Papyrus, Frisk and Flowey and even yourself still remain. The edges of your figures are blurred. Your feet are rooted to—well, whatever is holding you in place, but everything else around you is moving at the speed of light—probably faster.

You’re in an unfamiliar location. You’re reminded of the inn, but the inn was a lot more welcoming than this. The walls were cracked and two fogged windows are situated to the right of you.

“YOU WILL REMAIN HERE, HUMAN. MY DISGRACE OF A BROTHER WILL BE IN CHARGE OF YOU. REMEMBER, TRY TO ESCAPE, AND I _WILL_ KILL YOU WITHOUT A GHOST OF A THOUGHT.”

Papyrus marched out, and Sans let out a breath as if he’d been holding it the entire time. “how ya, doin’ sweetheart?”

You’re trembling. Your legs are weak and your knees knock together and you fall back—but you’re caught. By Sans. He sat you down on a ratted cushion, and your chest is heavy and your vision is blurry and you can’t breathe. There’s a slight tremor in your ribcage and suddenly shifts to being constricted. Sans is holding your hands and you feel him rubbing small circles in your knuckles and you realize you’re literally curling in and freezing up.

He’s there until you feel like you’re in control again, and he doesn’t let go until he thinks you’re strong enough to stand on your own.  


	9. Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a slow chapter. It features some verbal abuse and anxiety attacks. If this is triggering to you, please read at your own risk. Happy New Year, everyone.

There are prisons that compute to cold metal bars pressing against you as you try to reach others beyond it.

There are those only you can see. Your flaws, your imperfections, rounding up to your flaws that keep you away from your best. 

_**It's not your fault. It's okay.** _

* * *

Your back hurt. You’re emotionally and physically drained. You’re tired.

You tried to go back to sleep, but after ten minutes you realized that there’s no fooling yourself. The world still goes on; and as much as you’re tempted to, you don’t intend to fall behind.

The cold hits you like a brick now that you’re fully conscious and you pull your knees to your chest, backing up into a wall. There’s a biting cold around your ankle and you realize there’s a chain attached to you, and you discover that Frisk has a something similar. A paper bag lay next to the sad, torn-up doggy bed that Frisk and Flowey were curled up to, and you vaguely remembered hyperventilating. You began to tear up and you hid your face in your arms. It’s been roughly three years since your last big one. As petty as it sounded, you felt like you were breaking a streak. _You were doing so well._

“hey.” You gave yourself a few seconds to blink away the tears and level your breathing before you looked up.

You forced a smile. “Good morning.”

“how you doin, sweetheart?”

It was a weird thing for you, but whenever someone asked how you were when you weren’t feeling good you would begin to cry. It didn’t really help that you were already tearing up before that. Sans noticed this.

“not good then.”

You didn’t say anything, just looked down at the ground and felt the familiar rush of trying to cover up your tears. You didn’t look at Sans even when he sat next to you, a few inches away.

“Thanks.” You said shakily after a few moments of silence. “For helping me out yesterday.”

Sans nodded. “no problem, honey.” He paused. “took you awhile to calm down last night. you pretty much passed out—almost immediately.”

You winced and silence took over once more.

“kinda cold in here don’t ya think?” You shrugged. Sans shifted the weight of his leg, a bit unnerved that all of a sudden, you weren’t so talkative. He couldn’t blame you, of course, considering what happened with Papyrus.

“wait here.” His figure flickers, and barely moments, later his presence disappears again. He’s been doing that ever since you met him, disappearing within a blink of an eye and a momentary flash of red shaped in his character, almost as if he was a hologram, but crimson rather than the customary blue—and just last night you had the chance to, try it, per se.

Frisk had begun to rouse, looking confused as they pushed against gravity to sit up. They held Flowey close to their chest, examining their surroundings before sighing with relief once they realize you were behind them.

“Hi there, kiddo.” You strained a smile, reaching your arm out to them. They crawled into your embrace, leaning against your shoulder. Flowey was still asleep, shivering. You felt bad for the flower. Surely, this wasn’t the type of weather he was accustomed to.

“here.” Sans was back with a mug of hot chocolate. “i’d bring you inside, if i could but..” He gestured to the chain attached to both of your legs.

“It’s alright.”

He frowned, and after a few moments sat down beside you, a few inches away.

You pressed the mug against your lips, relishing in the warmth it brought before taking a sip. Sweet. You handed it to Frisk to share and Frisk nodded as a silent thanks.

“er.. Pap’s probably going to come by and interrogate you two… he doesn’t seem to trust me any more, he even considered bringing the dog guard here.” Sans chuckled, but as always, you noticed the emptiness in his laugh and the light from his eyes disappearing (no seriously, you were staring into the void again.)

You nodded. “Are you okay?”

He blinked. “am _i_ okay? honey, i’m not the one he wants to kill.” A short pause. “…actually, yeah, i sort of am but you know what i meant,” he muttered.

You laughed. It was breathy, almost wheezy and you even coughed after, but Sans seemed surprised, as if he just said the worst joke in all of monster and human history and you burst out laughing like a lunatic, as if you hadn’t laughed in a hundred years.

He gazed at you, before he closed his eyes and the corners of his mouth pulled into some sort of grin.

“Sorry, I don’t really know how I found that funny.”

“don’t worry about it, sugar.”

“But… yeah, are you okay?” Your eyebrows pulled together and your eyes had concern welling within them, although your smile still lingered.

“i… yeah, i’m alright, sweetheart. you don’t have to worry about me.”

* * *

You answered Papyrus’s questions as best as you could, flinching whenever he’d click his tongue when you’d take too long finding the words or if you stuttered too much. Frisk was silent through it all, and Flowey seemed to be trying to glare at the taller skeleton. _Trying_. He was terrified.

Your subconscious seemed to have wandered off, concentrating on the littlest of things like the way Papyrus’s scarf moved slightly with the wind, the pattern of Flowey looked up at him with a kind of determination before looking back down again in fear, how you were swaying a little. Your mouth was moving on its own, and while part of your mind stayed to think of the answers the rest seems to have gone.

“WELL, THAT WOULD BE IT FOR NOW, I SUPPOSE. I’VE STILL MUCH WORK LEFT TO DO.”

Sans fidgeted. He looked like he wanted to say something, but kept silent.

“I’LL BE BACK.”

Your mind clicked back. “Take care.”

Silence.

Papyrus’s eye twitched. “WHAT DID YOU SAY, HUMAN?”

“I said ‘take care’.”

“AND WHY, MAY I ASK, HUMAN, WERE YOU WISHING ME THE BEST WHEN I HAVE YOU HERE; MY PRISONER AND ONE ON THE DEATH ROW?”

Your eyebrows furrowed together. He almost seemed offended at what you said. You were about to answer him back, but the way he was glowering at you and his magic gathering around his hand again, you felt powerless once again. You didn’t want to test his patience.

“Sorry for hoping for your safe and well return…” You mumbled.

A low growl rumbled within his chest as if deciding whether he was going to dust you on the spot. Then he left, a small huff leaving his mouth.

* * *

You weren’t sure what time it was. You didn’t try to fall back asleep, and neither did Flowey or Frisk. You mostly kept to the small, dirty corner of your prison—better known as Sans and Papyrus’s garage. You were huddled close to each other, trying to keep warm.

The pair, you believe, took your bag which had your GOLD and pie in it. You weren’t sure if the snowball was still there, but who knows in this world?

_When was the last time you ate? When was the last time you drank? When was the last time you had proper sleep? Hell, when was the last time you went to the bathroom?_

“hey there.”

You looked up. “Hi, Sans.”

He strained a smile when you saw the maroon, cotton blanket he had. _Red again (or at least some shade of it)._ He sat next to you, unfolding the blanket and wrapping it around you, Flowey and Frisk. Flowey seemed suspicious at first, but even the flower couldn’t resist the warmth the blanket offered. Frisk murmured a small thanks and leaned on your shoulder.

“So, hey, I’ve been meaning to ask… Sans?” You looked at the skeleton. He seemed distracted.

“Hey.”

“…”

“...Don’t give me the cold shoulder.”

Flowey groaned. “Are you serious, right now?” Frisk’s shoulder shook a little when they giggled. Sans seemed to come back to reality now.

“aren’t you just a fan for puns?”

You shrugged. “Are you okay? You drifted off for a bit there.”

The pinprick lights in Sans’s eyes flickered. “yeah, yeah, i was just… thinking. what were you saying?”

“What’s with the red and black?” It was a silly question, but the reoccurring sight of this colour made you think of an edgy emo world.

Sans seemed to read your mind cause he laughed. “well, dollface, our resources here in the underground are lacking, so i guess you could say red and black covers the majority of cloths we have in stock.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“no problem, sweetie.”

You pulled the blanket a little more around your body. Warm. You looked at Sans, about to thank him again for the blanket when you saw a cloud of air he breathed out. Then you realized.

“Hey, aren’t you cold?”

“hm?”

“i mean… in this weather... people on the surface don’t even dare to go out when it’s as snowy as it is here.”

“well… i guess i can feel it, but it doesn’t exactly affect me. same with heat.”

The gears started shifting in your mind.

“I guess you could say the cold goes right through you.” You said with an almost triumphant smile.

“Oh my god” Flowey muttered, pressing a tattered leaf to his face while Frisk laughed. What surprised you the most was that Sans laughed along with them.

“man, that was horrible.” He said, still grinning.

* * *

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT BLANKET?”

“Sans gave it.”

“HE DID NOW?” Papyrus turned a sharp eye to where the shorter brother was standing. Sweat trickled down his head, and his eyes avoided anyone else’s.

“Yeah, he’s a really great person.”

His eye twitched again.

“LOOK HERE, HUMAN. I WOULDN’T SUGGEST BEING TOO BUDDY-BUDDY WITH MY BROTHER HERE. I DON’T NEED HIM EMBARASSING ME FURTHER BY DEVELOPING A ‘FRIENDSHIP’ WITH A LOWLY BEING SUCH AS YOURSELF.” Your hand jerked a little. “I HOPE YOU REMEMBER THAT I AM CAPABLE OF ENDING YOUR LIFE HERE AND NOW, SO IF YOU’D LIKE TO KEEP A FEW MORE HOURS OF YOUR TIME ON THIS EARTH, YOU’D DO WELL TO SIT STILL, KEEP QUIET, AND BE LIKE AIR UNLESS I CALL FOR YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

* * *

“Sans? Are you alright?”

Frisk glances over your shoulder.

“s-sorry sw-sweetheart…” He’s trembling. “i… uh… boss… he really has an effect on me.” His smiles are empty again.

He pulls his hood over his head and curled up. Flowey doesn’t seem to care much, as he sneers despite your reprimanding glance.

You removed the blanket from your shoulder and crawled over to him. You put a hand on his back and he flinched. His jaw is trembling and his eyes are welling up with anxiety and self-pity.

[ You hated those eyes. That’s what you saw when you looked in the mirror, everyday. ]

He starts muttering incoherently, nervously, rambling about how Papyrus would treat him, how Sans tries to please him at least a little but gave up because in the end, he will never be satisfied. There are large pauses in the middle, as if he was trying to find the words and they’re all just rushing away from him. He’s fidgeting. He seemed to freeze under your gaze. You tell him that it’s okay to take his time, to move at his own pace. Suddenly he’s gasping small fragments of air, talking to himself this time.

“what’s wrong with you?”

“this happens everyday, why is today so different?”

“ _i’m so pathetic_.”

He’s tearing at his jacket. He’s curling into a tighter ball. Tears are rolling down his cheeks. You reach your arms out to hold him. “You’re not pathetic.”

* * *

You don’t know how long you’ve been there, but you try not the flinch when you feel a hand around your back. He’s not exactly hugging you back, but it would seem he finds comfort in your embrace.

* * *

Papyrus goes on with his banter. Sans isn’t in the room this time.

“Papyrus?”

“WHAT, HUMAN?”

“Can you be a little nicer to Sans?”

 

* * *

 


	10. (a little more on the subject)

Has it ever crossed your mind that the place where you are right now has some sort of history—painted on the walls and marking the ground?

Has it ever occurred to you that to someone, out there, this place is of some significance?

_This is where I confessed my love._

_This is where I said my final goodbyes._

_This is where I hide away._

This place has seen a lot. Perhaps too much.

So has a person who frequents as such.

* * *

Have you ever been to bar?

There where you can find all types of people, there where you do the exact opposite of at least one person in the same space as you.

What have you done in a bar?

Celebrate, perhaps? Maybe you’ve toasted a friendship or romance, or a small success such as getting a job.

Did you grieve? Did you drown yourself to drown your problems, only to find that sometimes, they only keep you afloat for the shortest of periods only to drag you back down again?

Who do you see in a bar?

The drunk ones, who insist on downing the fire that burns their insides, simply for the reason it’s fun.

Their polar opposite—maybe you were once this person—refusing even a drop of liquid and sticking to your own bottled water.

The servant, or the host, whose sole purpose is to keep your glass full. There are some days though when these people listen, and talk, and intervene. These people whom you confide in when you can’t hold in your emotions any more.

* * *

He was an ever so silent host and though he chooses not to speak, he has a few spare words to those who would listen.

 

The older brother was a laidback, relaxed individual. He was certainly popular among the other people here.

His younger brother was vibrant and extroverted, his personality quite as big as his mouth. He loved to speak. He loved having someone to talk to.

The older brother was talented and smart. But he was flawed in a way that many may not understand.

His younger brother looked up to him as if he were a beacon for all his hopes and dreams.

[ In a world like this, it would not take long to break them both.

And it didn’t take long for Sans to realize that. ]

Perhaps he was saving himself the trouble—lowering from the ladder of hope for if ever he were to fall it would surely break whatever left of himself he had.

His brother didn’t take kindly to it, however.

[ “WHAT A WASTE OF POTENTIAL.” ]

He was confused. He was hurt. Then all these feelings mixed into an emotion that was a constant in the world they lived in.

[ “I CAN’T BELIEVE I EVER LOOKED UP TO YOU.” ]

His brother was weak.

[ “YOU’RE PATHETIC.” ]

And he didn’t intend to be the same.

 

 

 

But he was still his brother.

And when push comes to shove, it’s a little hard to show what compassion you have. 

It's harder when the other takes in your words and begins to pile them up until he collapses under the weight. It's all in his head, I suppose, but he can't really help it. 

I don't expect you to understand.

[ tough love. ]

 

Was it too short?... well, the bartender only ever had so few words to spare. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will confess, I had no idea where I was going with this one. I wanted to go for something like a brief look into why Papyrus is this way or a little look from his point of view, cause I also didn't know how to transition into what you're going to see in the next chapter.
> 
> But to explain further-so I didn't have to completely waste your time:
> 
> The underground is a very sad place. It's a barrage of monsters who have lost a lot-such as their freedom and quite possibly a lot of their loved ones. 
> 
> Sans is aware of all of this, and has proven to Papyrus that he was smart and talented but he never used his skills to the fullest which sort of annoyed his brother. It didn't help his anxiety, later coming depression made him think 'what's the point? It's all useless in the end' but Papyrus didn't accept this.
> 
> Because of this, he was led to think that his brother was wasting so much potential, that this person he once looked up to became this pathetic whelp. He couldn't understand.
> 
> So as years gone by, his way of showing his love was "encouraging" his brother to do better or something worthwhile at least, but his way didn't work and only led Sans into a downwards spiral into an even deeper depression and anxiety.
> 
> I wanted to put Grillby in this cause why not.


	11. intervention

* * *

...this is a bit awkward. 

I apologize to everyone still following this story for the wait, and I'm sorry to say that this is not a new chapter. I'm currently quite busy with my life beyond the screen. I actually have exams tomorrow haha. 

I decided to log back in to see if I can update you all again, but then I found out that SivioSanei, the mastermind behind Flowerfell, has asked for all works relating to such would be taken down. While this saddens me, it upsets me more that it has come to this point. While Flowerfell is an amazing idea and Overgrowth was fantastic, it seems a lot of people from the fandom forgot the person writing the words. 

_**After being treated like utter shit, I would understand too.** _

However... This story has grown quite dear to me. I have been modifying FYAMS for the past few months, and I feel bad about letting all the effort go poof. I will see if I can get into contact with SivioSanei, and ask that if I may be able to continue this story but with some more modification... I'm not sure what to tell you about what to expect for the redevelopment of this story, but we'll see. 

Que sera sera. 

I'll update everyone as soon as possible. 

 


End file.
